No Or The Shortest Alliance
by SeventhSpanishAngel
Summary: Dedicated to Jombra, who gave me the idea. A one-shot of Voldemort summoning Yami. The second will be Orochi. Guess who wins out?
1. Chapter 1

It was finally time

**No- Or, The Shortest Alliance**

**Interlude:** Offshoot of The Long Howl, a Harry Potter Okami crossover, a what-if two-shot suggested by a reviewer, to whom I owe the idea. Thus dedicated to **Jombra**. I hope you liked it. Orochi should be up next.

**Disclaimer:** I own, nothing, not even the idea. Characters belong to their creators.

**Warnings:** Character death- (only bad guys) a little disturbing imagery.

**Rating:** One day I will get this right…T?

**Spoilers:** Um, not that I can think of. Non-canon for the way V dies.

It was finally time.

Lord Voldemort took a moment to savor it, drinking in the night and closing his red eyes in pleasure.

Tonight, after nearly a year of research, he would summon the being who would give him ultimate power over his enemies…even death.

He ignored his death eaters as they cowered at the limits of his Circle, draw in salt and blood, (not his of course, what else were minions good for?) the earth within salted and barren.

He fingered his wand, eying the runes he had painstakingly drawn, before he gave a thin, satisfied smile.

It was time.

He took a breath, then lifted his wand.

It had taken months just to correctly translate the right ritual, and he concentrated carefully as he spoke. He wanted the Source of all evil, after all, nothing less.

Tonight he would finally be a God…

Ah, happy delusions…

The chant, almost like parsletongue in the way it twisted and hissed, seemed to burn the air, and crimson eyes flared with triumph as the air within the circle began to visibly darken, as if black smoke was billowing into it, a thick mist with the color of a moonless midnight.

It was Dark, it was Evil…it was perfect.

Voldemort sighed, lowering his wand, smiling almost parentally.

"Lord of darkness…aid me, serve me, let us bring chaos and destruction and death to even the stars…"

This was more of a formality, really, the runes he had drawn demanded absolute obedience to the summoner.

It was a good plan. No, a _brilliant _plan, perfectly planned and perfectly executed.

There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Minuscule, almost.

See, Voldemort, arrogant as he was, assumed that his own will, powerful as it was, to bring the whole wizarding world to its knees…would be stronger than that which he summoned.

It never occurred to him that the Source of all that was evil would have a will of its own…

Lord Voldemort is already dead. The rest, as they say, is a formality…

But first…

Darkness swirled, then took shape, everyone leaning forward in fascinated horror to see what shape this monstrosity took…and collectively face vaulted.

It was…a gigantic ball.

Really.

Sure, there were nifty designs carved over it, and it was impressively massive…but it was still a gigantic ball.

Then, as everyone stared, a square panel popped open, and Something stared out at them.

All the torches had long since gone out.

Then the panel snapped shut with a contemptuous bang, and for a long moment nothing happened.

Voldemort opened his mouth to say something, but it was at that moment that Yami Spoke.

_**No.**_

It wasn't that simple, and then yet it was. It was an utter denial, a promise, a scornful whisper that ate into the fabric of reality, shifting everything subtly closer to darkness.

It was- _neverlittlemortalsillyplaythingsofragileuselesslittleshadowsummonsmeusfoolishchildtothinktoowncontrolwhathasbeenwillbewhenthestarsburnout-_

But all Voldemort, deaf to so many things, heard was that simple No.

Suddenly it struck him that he had overlooked something, something important…but by then it was too late.

Because suddenly the ball was shifting, reforming, a grasping hand reached out, grabbed the dark wizard and _squeezed_.

No dark magic can withstand that which birthed it.

Voldemort didn't even have time to scream, or wonder how the Thing had reached over the circle.

He just died in a shower of blood.

The death eaters had just enough time to panic in that unnatural darkness, but though they tried to flee the Darkness found them all and remorselessly crushed them, absorbing their pitiful darkness back into Itself.

Its form shifted again as it, er, _rolled_ itself towards freedom, crushing the summoning circle without even noticing its existence.

Darkness had come to the world, and It was eager now to play…but as It Shifted, reaching out dark tendrils to corrupt…the dawn burst over the treetops and threw lances of light at It, and there was a terrible, silent thunder to the world that shook it, and Yami retreated in silent fury to the Circle and disappeared, bleeding back into black mist.

There was a flash, and for a moment there was a whisper of wolf-song on the wind as the sun rose, and then there was nothing but the splashes of blood that marked the shortest attempted alliance of the Second War.

Which had just, instantly, ended.

Miles away, Harry Potter awoke with a shout as his scar bled red…then faded into almost nothing.

The moral of this story? Um, don't mess with evil. There's always something worse out there…and it doesn't like you.

You know, I'm thinking of what would happen if Voldemort summoned Orochi…

**A.N:** Whoa, darker than I thought it would be. Damn muse. My original image was just Yami rolling over Voldemort and leaving a Voldemort pancake…


	2. The Second Shortest Alliance

**?- Or, The Second Shortest Alliance**

**A.N:** Hmm, less dark and disturbing. More ironic.

To Jombra- one line- you know which- is for you.

Voldemort stared.

The death eater's stared.

Orochi stared back. All eight pairs of eyes.

"Um, Master?" A trembling and obviously suicidal minion stuttered.

"Is the Great Monstrosity from legend…really an eight-headed dragon?"

He was elbowed by his neighbor.

"Well it can't be a dragon, can it? Hasn't any wings…"

Voldemort tried to pull himself from his stupor to crucio the idiots but couldn't quite bring himself to look away from the very, very Big snake/dragon…monster.

From behind him there was another irritated hiss.

"You're an idiot, Herv, look at the pattern of scales…clearly draconic. Note how the eyes are set…I got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures, you know."

"Ooh! How impressive! Because an O in your exams on wizarding creatures is of course applicable to creatures from other dimensions!"

"I tell you it's a dragon!"

"Snake!"

"Dragon!"

"Sn-"

"_Silence!_" Voldemort finally snapped, a definite twitch developing in his right eye. He gathered his bearings and tried briefly to meet all eight pairs of eyes, failed, and instead focused on the nearest head, which, oddly enough, bore a crest with what looked like a lightning bolt.

The twitch worsened.

He gritted his teeth and ignored the symbol, staring into the big, glowing eyes.

"Lord…Orochi. I am delighted to finally meet you. You have been summoned to aid me in my noble quest- and to reap death and despair upon my enemies."

Eight pairs of eyes blinked.

The nearest head- the lightning bolt one- twisted a little closer and stared at him as if he was some sort of insect.

Obviously he needed a less sophisticated method of communication, here.

"_Obey me_," he hissed commandingly in parsletongue.

It blinked.

Big eyes narrowed.

Voldemort-Lord to his minions- was just congratulating himself on the success of his ploy when fangs flashed in his direction in an outraged snarl and the great head reared back sinuously.

_Crack!...sizzle…_

It's a good thing Voldemort didn't believe in omens, because the strike of lightning from the outraged beast _hurt_.

Staggering back, he whipped out his wand with a snarl of his own.

_**Silly little mortal…not even worth the effort…**_

He threw a powerful _crucio_, smirking as it struck…only to blink in surprise as the spell bounced harmlessly off of the beast's brilliant gold scales to impact with a death eater.

"Merlin! It can talk!"

"I'm more worried about how it did that thing with the lightning," someone hissed.

"Why? We weren't hurt," the other replied, ignoring the shrieks of the death eater still caught under the cruciatus.

"Yes, well," the bright one whispered uneasily, "it _is_ the Great Monstrosity, and it's marked by lightning…and threw lightning…and the other heads all bear symbols too…"

If Voldemort had actually paid attention to what his minions said, he might have expected what was about to happen.

But _he_ was the Dark lord here, _he_ was the brilliant one, not this rabble.

"I am no mere mortal, Beast, I am Lord Voldemort, who conquered Death itself! Obey Me!"

Another head swung closer, this one with a flame for a crest.

_**I am not mortal at all, little snake. I defied a God, I am Orochi and I bow to no-one!**_

The heads blurred.

The only thing that saved Voldemort here was the fact that the heads were greedy and each tried to grab him- instead they collided and tangled painfully.

With an undignified leap Voldemort rolled out of the way and threw a barrage of curses at the beast, smirking again as the Beast was lost beneath the roar of dark magic.

There was a long moment of silence.

Then there was a definite sneeze from with the smoke.

Which cleared to show a remarkably uninjured and impressively aggravated Orochi.

Apparently all that dark magic irritated its senses.

There was a nervous shuffling among the minions-death eaters- as the brightest began to edge for the exit.

Now, if Voldemort had been more sneaky and devious, he could have flattered Orochi and offered his services. A little bit of blood, his solemn oath, and the world might have been his. But alas, playing second fiddle had never been his strong point, and demanding obedience had just annoyed Orochi.

Really annoyed him. And Orochi had eight separate forms of attack, each rather…interesting.

The ensuing battle was decidedly one-sided.

_**Bleeech…the blood of maidens is far richer…**_

Ironically, it was the head marked with lightning that finally snagged the dark lord, and smugly it electrocuted him again for good measure before throwing him back.

The venomous head hissed in annoyance, and a competition broke out among the remaining heads to see who caught the most rats…energetic little black-robed things that they were.

Pity Voldemort didn't believe in omens…otherwise the warning on Harry Potter's head might have steered him clear.

Moral? Greed kills, people.

**A.N:** Poor Orochi, bet Voldie tasted terrible…

Again, original vision? One of the heads just ate him when he was spouting a speech about his grand plans for world domination…


End file.
